Free Linda Needham by The Bride Bed Page B

oil, my lady. A bundle of saddle leather, a bag of arrowheads, a chest of sawyer’s tools, two wheels of cheese, three sacks of beans.” He flashed her a wild half smile. “And more.”
    “How? From where?”
    Quigley said nothing more, only nodded slightly in de Monteneau’s direction.
    Sweet Mother of God! Not a passing caravan, not a stray delivery cart, but right out from under His Lordship’s arrogant nose.
    “Quig, you shouldn’t have taken the chance.”
    “Oh, but the opportunity, my lady…”
    “Except that de Monteneau seems the sort of man who keeps records of all he owns.” Well, there was nothing to be done about it now but see the lot safely stored.
    Talia started packing up her medicinals, keeping one eye trained on her new guardian, watching for some indication that he might have already learned of the theft, trying to ignore the lifting of her pulse when he smiled at something Dougal said. “How did you manage it, Quig? And when?”
    “The last of His Lordship’s carts were having trouble coming through the brindle cut early this dawn. A few of us offered to help. ’Twas a simple thing to relieve the carts of a few items in the process.”
    “Dear God, Quigley. That’s too close.” Yet Talia couldn’t help but smile back at the dear old man. “I trust that you used your usual ingenuity in covering His Lordship’s loss?”
    Quigley waved a dismissive hand. “His men won’t notice till they’re unpacking the goods here at the castle. Maybe not even then.”
    “You’ve stashed it all where?”
    “In the west sheepfold. I’ll try to bring up the oil and the sawyer’s tools this afternoon.”
    “And the salt pork, too. Excellent work, Quig.” Though he terrified her at times.
    “I was taught by the best, my lady.” He bowed in her direction.
    Aye, but she’d become the best highway robber in the kingdom out of dire necessity, not from any desire for infamy or revenge or greed.
    Just as she’d had to learn to read mason’s marks and stone arches and timbered cellars. Necessity.
    “And now I’m off to the village before de Monteneau gets a chance. I’ll signal if there’s a problem with bringing in the goods from the sheepfold. Now, you’d best go check with His Lordship. He had a question for you. Something about the cesspit in the guardtower.”
    Quigley scrunched up his weathered face. “Am I at his service, then?”
    “I’ve already told him I’d lease him a shovel and pail. You can take it from there.”
    Quigley shifted on his feet, looking unusually hesitant. “One more thing, my lady. A delicate question for you. Not that you have to answer, of course.”
    “Go ahead, Quigley.” Talia tucked a bag of dried agrimony into her medicine chest. “You’ve known me since I was a babe; you can ask me anything.”
    More feet shuffling. “Well then, will you be marrying this one? Seems a cleaner sort—”
    “Any question but that one, Quigley.” She kissed him on his bristly cheek. “Now, go see if you can head him off while I see to the village.”
    Talia watched Quigley tuck himself into the periphery of de Monteneau’s crowd, and hoped that His Lordship’s meeting with his council wouldkeep him occupied well into the afternoon. Taking one last look at the compellingly handsome man so intently involved with his men, she slipped out of the hall.
    She made a brief detour to her chamber for her cloak and more medicines, to the kitchen to heap a large basket with bread and salted meat, before starting for the barbican with its new garrison of orderly watchmen walking the parapets, the sun glinting off their armor.
    “Good morning, my lady,” came a series of greetings as she approached the guardtower. Polite bows, hands to hearts, unexpectedly courtly smiles.
    Respectful in the extreme. Rufus’s men had always made her feel uneasy with their leering whenever she passed through the gates—as though they would jump down and drag her into their lairs, or slam the